


With Lightening In My Heels

by capponi



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capponi/pseuds/capponi
Summary: One damaged soul riddled with unfinished business finds another. One was her friend, one was his. Together they stand a chance of finding what they lost. Or losing what little they have left.The two people Hannibal and Clarice need to be most careful of turns out to the the two who loved them each most in their past lives.(AKA The canon crossover mash up no-one was asking for...but I can't stop thinking of.)
Relationships: Ardelia Mapp & Clarice Starling, Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	With Lightening In My Heels

**Author's Note:**

> This largely takes place after the book series completes - Hannibal and Clarice are missing, somewhere off in the world. However, in this world, everything Will and Hannibal go through together in the show-verse still happened ahead of Hannibal ever meeting Clarice in the basement of the BSHCI. 
> 
> Or basically - when I think what could possibly come next to continue and complete the parallel stories told in the books and in the show. The fifth book/fourth season. Ardelia Mapp would never have reached any kind of peace - not knowing whether Clarice was dead or alive, a willing fugitive or harried captive - and has the inherent intelligence and skills to get fairly far down the road of finding some answers. The unknown element for her would be Hannibal though. She would need to bring a partner on board, someone who knew Hannibal better than anyone. Together they stand a chance of finding their answers and finally reaching some form of closure - even if it is the last thing they do.
> 
> Genuinely interested - anyone else out there big fans of the books as well as the show/films? I see so little book-verse fic out there, would love to know more fans of the source material as well as the incredible show driven fandom :)

A woman sat in a battered truck - the heat outside humid and oppressive, thick enough to taste bitter, wet greens and wood smoke when inhaled. Inside the truck was considerably worse - musty and acrid. The radio signal had held out longer than she had expected, but now the roads were little more than hard packed dirt and only a few disjointed notes of some old country song garbled their way through the hissing static. The sound ended abruptly as the engine was cut and the only sound was the gentle creaking of the old car settling down on its haunches after the long, arduous trek. Just visible through the trees - thick with curtains of Spanish Moss - was a small wooden cabin. It showed evident wear and tear but also careful and competent attention to patch, restrengthen and expand its humble form. It was clearly occupied, even cared for in a utilitarian way - no time for aesthetics outside of function.

She sat for several long moments just watching, waiting for some sign. She had taken all her impotent anger and bitter frustration, grown into a tight knotted weight over the years of waiting, and thrown it into action. It was the only way she knew how to cope - all she had ever known. All that time, energy, gruelling work and serendipitous lucky breaks and here she was - it felt inevitable and ludicrous all at once. It could still all be for nothing.

Blowing out a long breath she finally loosened her grip on the steering wheel, dropped some of the tension from her shoulders and clicked the car door open, giving it the requisite sharp kick to the bottom hinge to ensure it opened wider than a foot and allow her some dignity in her exit.

There was something of a path winding to the cabin from where she had pulled up - little more than gentle flattening of the scrubby underbrush caused by irregular footfall - and she walked sharpish, ever aware of the risk of an opportunistic snake popping out to take a snap at the intruder. Once she came closer she saw she had somehow approached from the rear - the far side of the cabin had a greater circle of cleared vegetation and two decrepit but reliable looking trucks sat hunkered down under a wooden lean-to. 

There was a short set of steps up to the back of the wraparound porch just in front of her and she took them as quietly as the groaning planks allowed, stepping wide and quick past each of the few windows. Every window was shuttered, everything was eerily still and quiet - the whole place felt more like an absence of space, the desire of the occupant to retract from the world so ardent and all encompassing he had leached into the environment around him. 

The door at the front of the property looked newer than the rest of the property - sturdy and smoothly varnished. She took a few breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and gave three sharp knocks on the door, other hand resting over the small firearm holstered at her hip. The sound was jarringly loud in the pregnant stillness of the small clearing and she realised - not for the first time - that this whole thing could have been a really fucking bad idea. It took a good five minutes for her pulse to settle and in that time - nothing. No sound, no movement. Emboldened by the new burn of frustration that this was a huge waste of time, she knocked again - harder this time, a fast staccato rap. Nothing.  _ Nothing _ . Well,  _ shit _ . 

She huffed out another breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist and looked to the windows either side of the door. Shuttered, dark behind that. Maybe there was some clue in those trucks if this was even the right place - maybe wouldn’t feel like such a damn waste of a trip then. Turning abruptly, she let out a startled scream which half choked in her throat - at the bottom of the few steps down from the porch to the makeshift front yard stood a man, scuffed baseball cap pulled low to hide much of his face from her and an axe thrown over one shoulder.

“Jesus.” She hissed through clenched teeth, heart hammering in her ears. The man remained silent, watching her from beneath the shade of his cap with a small head tilt. 

When he spoke, his voice was brusque but the tone quiet and surprisingly gentle. “You lost?”

She took a breath and lowered her hand from her hip where it had flown by pure instinct. He hadn’t seemed to notice, or maybe just didn’t care. 

“I - I don’t know. I’m looking for someone.” She took a tentative step down onto the first step and closer towards him. He stepped to the side, clearing the way and dropping the axe to bite into the dirt beside him. 

“Nobody out here.” He muttered, eyes cast downwards at the axe - smooth handle still in his hand.

“You’re here.” 

“Am I?” He asked, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. For a long moment there was no noise but the hum of blood in her ears.

“...Will?”

He flinched, looked up fast and then back down. In that glimpse she was sure it was him - although the angry set of his jaw and cold look in his eyes didn’t suggest this would go as she hoped. She noticed his fingers tightened for a second on the axe handle, and then he stepped purposefully back as if distancing himself from the temptation.

“Leave.” He bit out, turning to head back towards the small tool shed he must have come from - the door standing open. “Now.”

“Wait! Can you just - hey, hear me out! I’m not here for - I’m not a reporter or anything.”

He kept walking, slowly but purposefully. His dismissal was clear.

“I was an agent too.”

No sign now he even heard her.

“My name is Ardelia. Ardelia Mapp.”

Finally, he stopped. His shoulders seemed to bow slightly, an invisible weight settling heavier around him. She waited another beat and then took a few tentative steps towards him. Then a few more. Finally she was stood right by him, moved to stand to the side about an arm’s length away. His head was down but from the side now she saw a strong jaw, a handsome profile. And the twisting scar, starkly white against the weathered tan of his skin. She shut down the slick of feeling it caused fast, snuffed it like a candle flame. She couldn't afford to feel bad about what she had come here for - she needed him, it was that simple.

“You were her friend?” He asked, eyes locked dead ahead. 

She nodded slowly. “And you were his.”

His jaw locked tight then, bulging. Fists clenched. Then released. Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were really quite beautiful - a clear blue. But God, she had never seen such intensity, such raw and electric  _ feeling _ . 

  
She suddenly desperately wanted to say ‘ _ I’m so sorry, I’ll go, I’m sorry _ ’. What she did say though was, “I need your help.”


End file.
